“Seriously?” The incredulity in Belle’s voice weighed heavily on her slumped shoulders.
“She said her brothers just started here today.” Belle rose from the bed and plodded lazily over to a mirrored vanity. She yanked the band out of her hair and began to brush it brutally. “Maybe if you could nab their files or somehow talk to them and get them to tell you—”
“How many times do I have to tell you he’s on to me, Finn?” Belle snapped acidly. “I can’t just sneak in there and take the files.”
“There’s something you can do. I know it.” Finn approached Belle from behind and gently placed his hands upon her trembling shoulders. They stilled instantly. “Belle, please. Do this for me. I’ll owe you one.”
“You’ll owe me more than one,” Belle scoffed. In the mirror, she glared up at his tall figure looming behind her. She was a tiny girl, born prematurely at six months, and never really caught up with other kids her age. But despite her size, she could be as tough as any of the guys and her attitude as caustic as sulfuric acid.
Finn chuckled. “Okay, more than one.” He smacked a kiss on her cheek and left the room so silently Belle wondered why he couldn’t have entered that way.
Belle sighed and dropped morosely into the chair at her vanity. The puff of air she blew out flipped up the wisps of hair that fell over her eyes. She cupped her cheek, still feeling flutters on the spot Finn’s lips touched. Would he ever know her as more than a friend? Would she ever be his girlfriend, instead of just one of the guys? Belle never had the courage to tell him straight up, but she’d sent so many hints of her affection for him he’d have to be a complete moron not to catch on. But he wasn’t a moron, she knew. His intelligence surpassed her own, easily.
A familiar rap at the door announced Belle’s forthcoming freedom. “I’m here!” She called, and then mumbled to herself, “but not for long . . .”
Belle jumped when the door cracked open with a squeal reminiscent of the old souls who used to occupy the skeleton of the old home. But she didn’t turn. She could see her uncle’s grim face in the mirror’s reflection as he hobbled in on his cane.
“What a surprise uncle,” Belle grumbled. “I was expecting one of your obnoxious bootlickers again.” Belle toyed with the makeup on her vanity, brushing powder over her face as if she were scrubbing a bloodstain from the floor.
“I’ve been occupied with some new students and their family all day. Now, about last night—”
“New students?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Who are they?”
“That, my dear, is none of your concern. What is, however, of your concern are the consequences of your own delinquent behavior.”
“It was just a stupid prank, Uncle Byron. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it will not,” Trappe growled. “Professor Ryder has had to shave his hair and even that hasn’t eliminated the blue stain from his scalp.” Belle snickered, recalling the previous night’s escapades of replacing the crotchety professor’s shampoo with neon blue dye.
“You won’t be laughing, my dear, when I put you in the discipline room.” Belle’s face grew taut. She met Trappe’s angry eyes with her own, filled with terror.
“No, uncle, please,” she begged. “I said it wouldn’t happen again. I’ll apologize to Professor Ryder. I’ll do anything. I swear!”
Trappe sighed and paced the room. He ended up standing beside the vanity and gazed out the window. “I’ll let it go this time, only because you are technically family. But the next time something goes amiss I will harbor no leniency. Consider this your final warning.” With that, Trappe tromped out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that a framed picture fell from the wall and glass shattered over the old wood plank floor. Belle scrambled to pick up the pieces of her shattered past.
She held the picture, faded and wrinkled with age. In it, a beautiful woman with long, flowing strawberry blond hair held an infant, no more than three months old. A man with light brown hair, the color of honey, cradled them both in his arms. Belle had no memory of her parents. They’d died when she was only three. She’d been raised at Neverland Academy. No person in particular attended to her, but she’d found a family in the work staff who took care of the needs of faculty and students. One woman in particular, Janine, had almost treated her like a daughter. Janine was a cook, but always took the time to read to Belle and tend to her ailments, like only a mother would. Her own daughter Lily, lived at the academy as well, but she was put to work at a young age and not given the same luxuries as Belle. Since girls were not permitted at the academy, Trappe hired a private tutor to give Belle daily lessons. He came for two hours in the morning, which was plenty of time when Belle committed herself to the work. It was easy to do, considering how much she hated the guy. She studied extra hard to get it over with sooner.
Belle was saddened when she looked at the photograph, but she did not cry. She never cried. And she tried never to show weakness. In a place filled with boys and men, she strived to be their equal. That was why she ended up allying herself with Finn and the outcasts. They never treated her like a pathetic little girl. They appreciated her strength. If only Finn could see that she was more than one of the guys without betraying her pride.
Belle picked up the large pieces of glass and swept the others using two magazines, one as a brush and one as a dustpan, dropping them into the wastebasket among crumpled papers and used Q-tips. Then she shrugged on a hoodie and slipped into the secret panel in the wall.
Chapter Four
Imprisoned
The loneliness of laying on a bed without a phone to text anyone was stifling to Daphne. Her fingers twitched with the insatiable need for some fine motor activity, preferably with an electronic device. She should have felt a sense of unconditional freedom with the acres open space surrounding her new home, no obligations to friends or school yet, and nothing but empty time slots before school starts; but instead she was suffocating. She needed a connection to the outside world, a beacon to draw human relationships to her. Or at least a melodic chorus of honks and resonating engines to remind her of home.
She lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the gusty wind blow the boughs of a maple tree just outside her window. One of the longer limbs scratched at her window and she turned in alarm. Lightning flashed. For a brief moment she could have sworn she saw a pair of eyes staring at her. Unearthly green eyes. She shot up out of her bed. How could he be here? How could he possibly know where she lived when he didn’t even know her name?
Daphne turned off the lamp on her bedside table so she could get a better view of the outside. The darkness that lurked beyond the window was still too dense without the light of the moon and stars to break it up. Still, she could see more clearly without the glare projecting her reflection in the window.
She brushed her fingertips over the pane of glass and peered out. Huge droplets of rain splattered against the side of the house in the beginnings of a summer thunderstorm. Lightning struck again—a long one, followed by a shorter flash and then a heart-stopping crack of thunder. Long enough for Daphne to see that there was nobody outside. How could there be? Nobody would be stupid enough to hang around outside during a thunderstorm. And even if he was, Daphne’s bedroom was on the second floor. The only way she could have seen him was if he had climbed the tree. And there’s no way he could’ve climbed down that fast. No, it was nothing. Daphne laughed at her folly. Why was she even thinking of this boy? What was it about him that intrigued her so? He was dirty, obnoxious, and possibly didn’t even exist. Yet the mystery surrounding him was magnetic.
A rap at the door tugged Daphne away from the window with a start. Mrs. Werring appeared, a silhouette in the sliver of light between the door and the jamb.
“Daphne? Why are you standing there in the dark?” Her mother entered and flipped the light switch on. Daphne squinted as her eyes burned in the incandescent light from the ceiling fan.
&nbs
p; “I was just watching the storm.” Her mother’s eyes darted to the window and then back to Daphne.
“Oh,” she said, looking relieved when the lightning flashed again. “We’re heading out to dinner now. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge.” Mrs. Werring hesitated. This was usually the part where she told Daphne that no friends were allowed to come over, but that wouldn’t be necessary to mention tonight. Daphne didn’t have any friends here yet. Instead, she’d said, “We won’t be long.”
Daphne read between the lines. What Mrs. Werring really said, though in her own words, was “We don’t know when we’ll return, but I don’t want you to think you have plenty of time to get into trouble.” Normally she would resent her mother for thinking she was so stupid to fall for it. But tonight, she simply smiled and said, “Okay.”
Tonight was the night Rocks would be playing with his band in Athens. Mr. and Mrs. Werring would be downtown near the club, but Daphne was confident she wouldn’t be caught. It was Friday night and the streets would be overflowing with drunk college students looking to party.
She sat silently on her bed in the darkness of her room. Waiting. Waiting, until she heard the growling of the garage door opening and she saw the red taillights disappear into the black beyond Morton Road.
She’d have to be quick if she were to go to the show and be back before her parents got home. Daphne bolted to the bathroom to fix her hair into a high ponytail with ribbons of black and burgundy tresses raining down the sides of her face. She dabbed on some lip-gloss and mascara—all she really had time for. The closet stared back at Daphne for the few minutes she couldn’t decide what to wear. Then she realized it wasn’t that important and threw on a black tank, black jeans, chain link belt and chunky boots.
Daphne tromped across the hall to her parents’ bedroom and headed straight for her father’s armoire, the place where he always kept hidden that which was forbidden to Daphne and her brothers. In her younger days, she would find birthday and Christmas presents buried under crisply folded shirts and underwear. Sometimes she would find receipts for larger gifts that wouldn’t fit inside the armoire. Tonight, however, what Daphne was searching for was plenty small enough to fit in one of the cubbies on the top shelf. She stood tiptoed on an antique armchair to reach the top shelf where she found the keys to her mother’s BMW. It was effortless. And while Daphne was reaching, her fingers slid across something else she desired. Her heart warmed when she caressed the sleek surface of the device and she felt instant comfort. No mac-n-cheese needed. Just her iPhone.
Hopping off the chair, Daphne sat at its edge, pushed the power button, and waited impatiently for the phone to turn on. Much to her dismay, it was dead.
After about a minute of contemplation she ran downstairs and placed it on her mother’s charger. She could wait a few minutes, just to check her messages before she leaves. No sooner had Daphne done that than she heard a sharp tapping at the window above the kitchen sink. She had hoped it was just the wind blowing a wayward branch against the glass. But the tapping was much more intentional, rhythmic. Her pulse quickened as she warily approached the glass. A thought passed through her mind for a moment, that maybe she should just stay home and keep the doors locked. She saw the movie, Scream, once and it terrified her to think somebody could be out there waiting for the right moment to attack a vulnerable teenage girl.
Then she saw the eyes. Those lime-green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. She shook her head, convinced that she was imagining it again. But when she looked back a dimpled smile appeared just below them as if the Cheshire cat were appearing before her eyes. Daphne stood across from the window staring, dumfounded. The boy tapped again.
“Are you alone? Can I come in?” his muffled voice carried through the glass.
Daphne snapped out of her trance and reached across the sink, wrenching the window open.
“Who are you? How do you know where I live? What are you doing here?”
“It’s wet,” the boy said. And wet it was. His face glistened with streaks of rain. His raven hair was plastered to his head like a swim cap. His tee shirt stuck to his figure as if he were wearing nothing at all. “Can I come in please?”
“Not until you answer me. I don’t even know you.”
“My name is Finn. Your brothers gave me your address. And I’m here to say hi.”
“Hello,” Daphne said blankly. “Now, goodbye.” She slammed the window shut in Finn’s face. She didn’t need some crazy boy stalking her. Not tonight. She had too much to do and barely enough time to pull it off. But he was not chagrinned by Daphne’s blatant rejection. His smile broadened and he disappeared into the storm, which was beginning to wind down. When Daphne peered out the window again, he was nowhere to be found. She went to the front door and peered out the side windows. He wasn’t there either. She sighed a breath of relief and grabbed the keys to her mother’s car.
The garage door hummed open while Daphne tossed her purse into the passenger seat and climbed in. She started the engine, checked her face in the mirror, and placed her hand on the shifter—where another hand was waiting for her. Daphne’s heart leapt into her throat, choking her for a moment. She swallowed it down when she found the glowing green eyes smirking at her from the passenger seat. His other hand held her sunshine yellow purse.
“How did you—”
“I can be very discreet, Daphne.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You told me, remember? In the library.”
“Yeah, but you—”
“Like I said, I can be very discreet.”
“What’s this all about? Why are you really here? And don’t tell me it’s to say hi. That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re right. I’m not here just to say hi. I like you Daphne.”
“You don’t know me . . . what did you say your name was again?”
“Finn.”
“Finn. What kind of name is that?” The boy did not answer, but simply grinned at Daphne. “You don’t even know me Finn. How can you say you like me?”
“True, I don’t know you that well, but I’d like to. There’s something about you that makes me think you’d get along great with my friends and me. I think you’d like hanging out with us under the academy.”
“Finn, that’s very, uh, kind of you. But I have my own school to go to starting next week. And the last thing I need is to hang around with a bunch of juvenile boys at that academy with that creepy headmaster. Why would you think I’d want to hang out at a place like that?”
“It’s fun. Trust me. You’d love it. And I see how you get along with your parents. They chain you up here like a dog and expect you to be obedient without question. They probably control who you can be friends with and where you go and when. Am I right?”
Daphne refused to respond. She didn’t want to admit his accuracy. His ego seemed pretty inflated as it was. Besides, she was in a hurry and he was wasting her time.
“Come with me,” he continued, “and you won’t have to put up with their stupid rules.”
Daphne entertained the thought for a moment. How she would love to just run away and never see them again. But she knew it was a stupid, impulsive idea. It’s not like her parents would just forget about her and leave her alone. Plus, there was nothing about that place that appealed to her. “No, thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I need to be leaving now. Get out.”
“Sure thing, Daffy,” Finn chuckled as he opened the door and started out.
“That’s Daphne!” she called out after him.
“See you later, Daffy!”
“No, it’s . . .” Daphne started, but the boy was gone. She shook her head in annoyance. “Whatever.”
***
Even from the sidewalk Daphne could feel the thumping from the bass blaring over the speakers inside the club. College students filled the floor, jumping and grinding, most of them not drunk enough to cause problems yet except for a pair of girls on the far
end of the bar who kept laughing hysterically while leaning on each other for support. Jagger’s was a Mecca for students in this small college town, the perfect place to get wasted and hook up with a total stranger or that weird mohawked guy from Statistics 101.
Daphne had arrived at the perfect time. Parking was a commodity in downtown Athens and someone had just happened to pull out of a parking space right in front of the club as Daphne approached. She saw it as a good omen. Could this night get any better? Of course it could. She’d be seeing her boyfriend tonight.
At the entrance, Daphne pulled out her fake ID, knowing full well she’d be carded. She was tiny and barely passed for a college student. The bouncer glanced at the card and back at Daphne. She hid her nerves well and smiled sweetly when the bouncer handed back her card and stamped her hand giving her full alcohol privileges.
She paused inside, orienting herself with the club. She wanted a drink, but she wanted to find Rocks first. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dim, multi-colored lighting when somebody pounced on her.
“Daphne-san!” A girl with black-striped blond hair and thickly lined blue eyes towered over Daphne, embracing her in an awkward hug. Daphne always thought it was strange that her friend, Carrie, had an infatuation with all things Asian, while she looked like she came straight from the middle of Sweden. Daphne had some Korean in her from her mother’s side, and with her ink-black dyed hair she almost looked Asian herself. However, Carrie’s oriental obsession had nothing to do with Daphne’s heritage. Although, sometimes Daphne wondered if that was the real reason Carrie was her friend.
“I’m so stoked you’re here, Carrie!” Daphne shouted over the din. “I missed you!”
“Me too, chickie! Why haven’t you called? Or texted? Or something?”
“Damn!” Just then Daphne realized that she’d left the iPhone on the charger at the house. “My parents took my phone. I found it tonight and put it on the charger, but I left in such a hurry. It’s still on the kitchen counter.”
Neverland Academy Page 3
